You pull the stone out of your bag and look at it for a while. The swirling colors and shapes drawn you in. What you have accomplished in the last few years would have been impossible without it. And yet, Silver Sky’s words stick in your mind. There could be consequences to using the stone that you cannot see, yet. And… well, you have already finished making most of what you wanted, have you not? One hundred healthy children, land and homes for them to live in, a horse herd and some other things to help them on their way… You do not need the stone any more.
You pull Cleaver off your back and stab it into the ground – deep, but not too deep. Then you pull and pull on the hilt until you lever up a good-sized chunk of dirt and grass out of the ground. One or two more cuts make the hole a bit wider. With a little twinge of regret – or guilt? – you drop the stone into the hole, and push the earth back on top of it with your hands. Then, for good measure, you pull over some of the rocks lying around to make a small cairn on the spot.
After that, you go on about your business, telling yourself it will be better this way.
It is dusk when you go to the traders’ camp. You approach from the western side, counting on the falling sun to weaken any watcher’s eyesight. They have pitched tents around a slew of wagons, most of which are empty. At this hour, a lot of people seem to be out of their tents and sitting around cooking fires. The southerners are a raucous bunch – you can hear them talking loudly or singing well before you can see most of them. Based on the noise and other clues, you would guess that about thirty people came with this small caravan.
There is not much cover to be had, so staying unnoticed is mostly a matter of staying low and picking your times to move very carefully. There are two men who periodically circle around the camp – either on guard or just one long circuitous walk, you are not sure. You slowly close in when they move away, and manage to get inside an unoccupied tent just as they come around again. Then you are stuck there for some time listening to them jabber while they stand around, apparently having become tired of patrolling.
“…queer folk, these. I tell you true, I can’t tell ‘em apart.”
“That’s because you’re not looking right.”
“What’s to look for? They’re all about the same size, same age, wear the same clothes. And they’ve all got purple eyes. What kind of a color is that?”
“No, some are prettier than others. When I went out there the other day, there was a cute one who kept looking at me.”
“Oh, right? Did you get her name?”
“No, she just told me to get lost like usual.”
“Well, what’d she look like?”
“Oh well, she’s about my height, good figure – you can tell she’s a good worker –”
“Sounds like most of them, friend.”
“- and long braids.”
“They’ve all got the braids, friend.”
“That’s not – oh, forget it. You had to be there.”
“If you say so.”
“So, look, I was talking to Heng, see? Heng came up here on the last run. He says that then they let the carts get all the way into the village, so they could get a good look around.”
“Uh huh.”
“Heng was also in the front on this trip, so he got a ways in before being turned back. You know that big house they’ve got out there now?”
“The one you can see on the east side? Yeah.”
“Heng says he saw a bunch of women and kids around there, all ages. Looked hardly anything like the rest of the Nar-adis-somethings.”1
“Huh. What do you think? Slaves? Captives?”
“I dunno. Heng didn’t say they were being guarded or nothing. But that’s not all – he said the house wasn’t there last time.”
“What, are you kidding? He must be blind. You don’t build one of those in a month.”
“Well, I believe him. It looks new to me…”
Finally, the pair moves on. When their voices die down, you quietly step out of the tent and make your way further towards the center. Other tents, carts, and piled boxes hide you for a moment or two at a time while you travel inwards. In the middle of the camp, you find a pair of fat people sitting side by side in folding canvas chairs before a fire. One is a man, fair-skinned, richly dressed, and with an impressively bushy black beard. The other is a woman, also fair-skinned and richly dressed, with several spikes keeping her hair in a tight bun. Based on what you have been told by the Sunblessed, these two are probably Kun and Ling. Kun, the man, is idly poking at the fire with a long stick. Ling is leaning back in her chair, playing with some device that looks like a bunch of beads mounted on a tiny rack.
You take up a position behind them, lying in the shadow underneath a cart. It is a tight fit with all your weapons strapped to you, but from here you can easily hear everything they say.
“…came on a bit too strong, dear,” says Ling, snapping beads from one side of the rack to the other. “They think they’ve been cheated, so they’re keeping us out.” The rattling from her device punctuates each sharply spoken word.
“Have a little patience, love,” replies Kun, without a care in the world. “Heng says he saw their chief come back today, with a big train behind him. If that doesn’t put these people in the mood, nothing will.”
“We’re eating profits every day we wait, literally. We’ve put too much into this venture – “
“ – we’ve put too much in to just quit when we’re so close,” interjects Kun, talking over his wife.
“Please don’t interrupt, dear. I was going to say that we have too much to lose by waiting for them to be ‘in the mood.’”
“Commerce is like love, love. You can’t force it.”
“No, but we can work for it. Now, listen – suppose we take, oh, ten percent of the shinier goods and try walking them into the village as a tribute to the chief or something? They’d buy that, and we’d get access to everyone else.”
“Not a bad idea, love, but how do our margins look after ten percent?”
Ling rattles on her device and clucks her tongue. “Could be better, but at this rate we’re going back with nothing. At least this way we get a rapport on.”
“Hmm. Well, I think we can risk waiting a little longer. Big Man Otgonbayar only just got back today – sure, he didn’t come see us at once, but that could mean anything. How do the numbers look after, say, one more week?”
Ling flicks a few beads. “Down five and a half, and if we have to wait longer than that or try the tribute plan then… well. Depends on our return, but frankly I don’t think we’ll cover all expenses. Are we sure it is necessary to go through the chief at all?”
“Yes, it is,” you rumble behind her, having found time to get out from under the cart and up to her chair unseen. “The Sunblessed are my people, and I’ll be the first to choose who they treat with.”
Both of them give a start. Ling stands up, knocking over her chair, and spins around to face you. Kun nearly pitches forward into the fire, then falls back and turns his head. There is a beat while you all look each other over.
“Dear, who was supposed to be on watch this evening?” says Ling, taking a breath.
“…I believe it was Bai and Guan, love,” answers Kun, not taking his eyes off you.
“I think we should fire them, dear.”
“I agree, love.”
“Oh, but where are my manners? We welcome you, great chief,” says Ling. Her manners have completely changed – like market-stall hawkers everywhere, her smile and tone lets you believe you are the most important person in the world to her, while her eyes tell you that she wants to know how much you are worth in silver denominations. “Please, have a seat!” She bends over, picks up the chair she was sitting in, and sets it down in front of you like she meant to do that all along.
You remain standing and cross your arms. “This isn’t a formal visit. I want to know what you have to offer to justify my not driving you out of here.”
Ling’s smile stays constant. “Of course! We bring a variety of manufactured goods and jewelry from all over the region – even some fine crafts from the furthest reaches of the world!” The noise she’s making is drawing the attention of other people at the camp, all of whom are shocked to see a large, heavily-armed stranger in their midst. A motley assortment of people – mostly southerners you recognize, but a several have skin tones or dress suggesting they come from somewhere else – gathers around to watch as Ling gets into her pitch.
She brushes past you and lifts the lid off the chest sitting by the cart you were recently underneath. Inside, packed in straw, are a collection of ornaments. Ling starts pulling them out, one after the other. “A fine glass pendant, carved from the crimson crystal of Chiaroscuro! A marvelously sharp pair of bejeweled Varangian bronze knives! And this remarkable amber stone, taken from the very lifeblood of a tigeroak and engraved with the blessings of Sextes Jylis.” The fading light does not show off the pieces well, but they do seem to be of good quality.
Kun pulls himself out of his chair with some effort and ambles over to the cart. “We also have a selection of steel tools, if you prefer more practical things. Or perhaps if you want something special, we can make a special trip just for you next season.“
It looks like they are warming up. You should probably say something before they get too hot.
What do you want?
AND
What do you offer?
You pull Cleaver off your back and stab it into the ground – deep, but not too deep. Then you pull and pull on the hilt until you lever up a good-sized chunk of dirt and grass out of the ground. One or two more cuts make the hole a bit wider. With a little twinge of regret – or guilt? – you drop the stone into the hole, and push the earth back on top of it with your hands. Then, for good measure, you pull over some of the rocks lying around to make a small cairn on the spot.
After that, you go on about your business, telling yourself it will be better this way.
It is dusk when you go to the traders’ camp. You approach from the western side, counting on the falling sun to weaken any watcher’s eyesight. They have pitched tents around a slew of wagons, most of which are empty. At this hour, a lot of people seem to be out of their tents and sitting around cooking fires. The southerners are a raucous bunch – you can hear them talking loudly or singing well before you can see most of them. Based on the noise and other clues, you would guess that about thirty people came with this small caravan.
There is not much cover to be had, so staying unnoticed is mostly a matter of staying low and picking your times to move very carefully. There are two men who periodically circle around the camp – either on guard or just one long circuitous walk, you are not sure. You slowly close in when they move away, and manage to get inside an unoccupied tent just as they come around again. Then you are stuck there for some time listening to them jabber while they stand around, apparently having become tired of patrolling.
“…queer folk, these. I tell you true, I can’t tell ‘em apart.”
“That’s because you’re not looking right.”
“What’s to look for? They’re all about the same size, same age, wear the same clothes. And they’ve all got purple eyes. What kind of a color is that?”
“No, some are prettier than others. When I went out there the other day, there was a cute one who kept looking at me.”
“Oh, right? Did you get her name?”
“No, she just told me to get lost like usual.”
“Well, what’d she look like?”
“Oh well, she’s about my height, good figure – you can tell she’s a good worker –”
“Sounds like most of them, friend.”
“- and long braids.”
“They’ve all got the braids, friend.”
“That’s not – oh, forget it. You had to be there.”
“If you say so.”
“So, look, I was talking to Heng, see? Heng came up here on the last run. He says that then they let the carts get all the way into the village, so they could get a good look around.”
“Uh huh.”
“Heng was also in the front on this trip, so he got a ways in before being turned back. You know that big house they’ve got out there now?”
“The one you can see on the east side? Yeah.”
“Heng says he saw a bunch of women and kids around there, all ages. Looked hardly anything like the rest of the Nar-adis-somethings.”1
“Huh. What do you think? Slaves? Captives?”
“I dunno. Heng didn’t say they were being guarded or nothing. But that’s not all – he said the house wasn’t there last time.”
“What, are you kidding? He must be blind. You don’t build one of those in a month.”
“Well, I believe him. It looks new to me…”
Finally, the pair moves on. When their voices die down, you quietly step out of the tent and make your way further towards the center. Other tents, carts, and piled boxes hide you for a moment or two at a time while you travel inwards. In the middle of the camp, you find a pair of fat people sitting side by side in folding canvas chairs before a fire. One is a man, fair-skinned, richly dressed, and with an impressively bushy black beard. The other is a woman, also fair-skinned and richly dressed, with several spikes keeping her hair in a tight bun. Based on what you have been told by the Sunblessed, these two are probably Kun and Ling. Kun, the man, is idly poking at the fire with a long stick. Ling is leaning back in her chair, playing with some device that looks like a bunch of beads mounted on a tiny rack.
You take up a position behind them, lying in the shadow underneath a cart. It is a tight fit with all your weapons strapped to you, but from here you can easily hear everything they say.
“…came on a bit too strong, dear,” says Ling, snapping beads from one side of the rack to the other. “They think they’ve been cheated, so they’re keeping us out.” The rattling from her device punctuates each sharply spoken word.
“Have a little patience, love,” replies Kun, without a care in the world. “Heng says he saw their chief come back today, with a big train behind him. If that doesn’t put these people in the mood, nothing will.”
“We’re eating profits every day we wait, literally. We’ve put too much into this venture – “
“ – we’ve put too much in to just quit when we’re so close,” interjects Kun, talking over his wife.
“Please don’t interrupt, dear. I was going to say that we have too much to lose by waiting for them to be ‘in the mood.’”
“Commerce is like love, love. You can’t force it.”
“No, but we can work for it. Now, listen – suppose we take, oh, ten percent of the shinier goods and try walking them into the village as a tribute to the chief or something? They’d buy that, and we’d get access to everyone else.”
“Not a bad idea, love, but how do our margins look after ten percent?”
Ling rattles on her device and clucks her tongue. “Could be better, but at this rate we’re going back with nothing. At least this way we get a rapport on.”
“Hmm. Well, I think we can risk waiting a little longer. Big Man Otgonbayar only just got back today – sure, he didn’t come see us at once, but that could mean anything. How do the numbers look after, say, one more week?”
Ling flicks a few beads. “Down five and a half, and if we have to wait longer than that or try the tribute plan then… well. Depends on our return, but frankly I don’t think we’ll cover all expenses. Are we sure it is necessary to go through the chief at all?”
“Yes, it is,” you rumble behind her, having found time to get out from under the cart and up to her chair unseen. “The Sunblessed are my people, and I’ll be the first to choose who they treat with.”
Both of them give a start. Ling stands up, knocking over her chair, and spins around to face you. Kun nearly pitches forward into the fire, then falls back and turns his head. There is a beat while you all look each other over.
“Dear, who was supposed to be on watch this evening?” says Ling, taking a breath.
“…I believe it was Bai and Guan, love,” answers Kun, not taking his eyes off you.
“I think we should fire them, dear.”
“I agree, love.”
“Oh, but where are my manners? We welcome you, great chief,” says Ling. Her manners have completely changed – like market-stall hawkers everywhere, her smile and tone lets you believe you are the most important person in the world to her, while her eyes tell you that she wants to know how much you are worth in silver denominations. “Please, have a seat!” She bends over, picks up the chair she was sitting in, and sets it down in front of you like she meant to do that all along.
You remain standing and cross your arms. “This isn’t a formal visit. I want to know what you have to offer to justify my not driving you out of here.”
Ling’s smile stays constant. “Of course! We bring a variety of manufactured goods and jewelry from all over the region – even some fine crafts from the furthest reaches of the world!” The noise she’s making is drawing the attention of other people at the camp, all of whom are shocked to see a large, heavily-armed stranger in their midst. A motley assortment of people – mostly southerners you recognize, but a several have skin tones or dress suggesting they come from somewhere else – gathers around to watch as Ling gets into her pitch.
She brushes past you and lifts the lid off the chest sitting by the cart you were recently underneath. Inside, packed in straw, are a collection of ornaments. Ling starts pulling them out, one after the other. “A fine glass pendant, carved from the crimson crystal of Chiaroscuro! A marvelously sharp pair of bejeweled Varangian bronze knives! And this remarkable amber stone, taken from the very lifeblood of a tigeroak and engraved with the blessings of Sextes Jylis.” The fading light does not show off the pieces well, but they do seem to be of good quality.
Kun pulls himself out of his chair with some effort and ambles over to the cart. “We also have a selection of steel tools, if you prefer more practical things. Or perhaps if you want something special, we can make a special trip just for you next season.“
It looks like they are warming up. You should probably say something before they get too hot.
What do you want?
- Bling. Signs of wealth to make the Sunblessed look as prosperous as they feel. Those knives would especially good on your belt.
- Steel. Good, solid tools for work or war. You still can’t make these yourself without magic, and the need for them is constant.
- Nothing. You don’t want anything these people have.
- Something else?
AND
What do you offer?
- Silver. Everything you saved from a lifetime of killing for pay is still there, waiting to be spent.
- Exotics. Buck-ogre horns and hides should fetch a fine price.
- Food. The Sunblessed have enough to spare – swapping what you have too much of for something you have too little of is what trade is all about, right?
- Nothing. You don’t want to give up anything you have.
- Something else?
Exalted
Comment